


Fireworks

by Yahtzee



Series: UB Season Five: New York, New York [6]
Category: Ugly Betty
Genre: Fire, Memorial Day Weekend, Multi, part of a series, suspected mob activity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-16
Updated: 2011-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-17 00:31:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/171010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yahtzee/pseuds/Yahtzee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel doesn't react well to Betty's big announcement about her new job. Betty doesn't react well to his reaction. And when Hilda realizes Bobby is lying about an upcoming errand, the sparks start to fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireworks

Later on, Betty thought it all would have gone so much better if she hadn’t been so incredibly happy.

But why would she ever have fought that feeling? She believed in joy as a kind of sacrament, something to be treasured for its own sake and shared whenever possible. So she could only think, when she told Daniel, that she was inviting him to feel as astonishingly, overwhelmingly great as she did at that moment. Two of her dearest dreams were coming true at once: Her lifelong wish for a job at a meaningful, substantive magazine, and the new feelings for Daniel that had awakened only a few weeks ago but already felt like a part of her.

And they’d just spent the night side by side. Maybe that tricked her into thinking they were closer than they were – or at least, close enough for him to instantly understand.

“I’m leaving MODE.” Betty beamed at Daniel, who looked confused. That wasn’t so bad. She’d expected him to look confused at first – but he’d get it.

Daniel rubbed the bruised side of his face, then winced, like he’d forgotten that would hurt. “Obviously I’m still kind of out of it. I heard you wrong.”

Oh, no – what if his concussion really were serious? “What did you hear?”

“That you were leaving MODE.”

“That’s right! See, you’re fine.” Betty took his hand and towed him toward the sofa, where he sat almost obediently by her side. He still looked so groggy, so weary, that she wondered if maybe she could’ve waited an hour or two to get to this … particularly given the delicious direction things had been headed. Better make things clear quickly: “I interviewed for Jodie Papadakis’ old job at the NEW YORK REVIEW OF BOOKS, and I got it! Don’t worry; I’m giving two weeks’ notice.”

He just stared at her.

“Daniel? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, but not convincingly. “Betty, I don’t understand. Why would you leave now?”

“You know I’ve never wanted to spend my whole career at MODE – any more than you do.”

“But now – right now when we’re – ” Daniel made some hand gestures which seemed to take in much more than the half-packed room they sat in. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me any of this.”

Which was maybe not a totally invalid point. For all the time she and Daniel had been spending together over the past few weeks – the intimate moments they’d shared – Betty knew she had kept this from him.

The not-unreasonable nature of this objection didn’t seem to matter much to her at the moment, though. This was huge for her. Massive. Maybe the greatest single thing that had happened since Bradford Meade picked her to be Daniel’s assistant almost four years ago. Betty wanted to dance in the streets, to sing to the skies. She’d wanted Daniel to join her in the celebration – and in so much more besides – and all he could do was sit there and stare like her getting a better job was something she’d done to hurt him?

Irritated, but attempting not to be, Betty soldiered on: “Well, I didn’t know about the job until last night, when you sort of had other things on your mind. And during the interview – I didn’t want to jinx it, you know?”

Daniel gave her a look. “ _That’s_ why you didn’t tell me? You didn’t want to jinx it?”

This had had exactly nothing to do with why she hadn’t told him, but she persisted. “Well, you know, after the whole thing fell through with Lindsey Dunne’s new magazine in London and I got my hopes dashed there, it kind of felt like nothing might change for me for a long time. Maybe ever. And now something fabulous has changed, and this ultimate dream job has fallen into my lap, and I guess – I guess you thought you’d at least try to be happy for me.”

There was a very long pause as they stared at each other. The high stacks of cardboard moving boxes piled around the sofa now felt like walls closing in around her. Daniel’s battered face, with his eye swollen and bruised deeply blue, reminded her with an almost physical pain of how close she’d come to losing him – and yet made it harder to read his expression. Was he coming around? Betty thought. Please let him be coming around.

Then he said, very quietly, “…London?”

Oh, crap.

“You were moving to London?” His voice had taken on that reedy, almost whiny quality she disliked, the one that she’d thought he’d grown out of. “You were going to move all the way across the ocean and you didn’t even mention it to me once?”

“I never took the job, okay?”

“Why not?”

“Because of Papi’s heart attack. I could hardly leave him now.”

Daniel nodded, face blank, and she realized too late that he’d been hoping she would say that she had remained in New York for him. How selfish was that?

Betty’s mood darkened yet further. A few minutes ago she’d been so happy that she’d felt like she was shining. But that precious moment of transformation and revelation – it was gone, ruined, and Daniel was the one who had stolen it from her.

“So,” she said. “You’re not going to bother being happy for me.”

“Happy that you’re leaving? No!” Daniel breathed out, a frustrated sound. “Betty, what just happened?”

Only a couple hours ago, she’d awakened in Daniel’s bed, him sleeping by her side, one hand warm against her back. At the time, she’d reveled in the simple, sweet touch, and seen it as a sign of the ripening connection between them. Now it felt more as if he were determined to keep her in one place, never moving so long as she was where he found it most convenient for her to be.

Betty caught herself in the last moment before angry words would have bubbled to her lips. “I’m not sure. Listen – we’re both exhausted. You had a hell of a day yesterday, and I probably need some more time to process this.”

“Right. Sure.” But Daniel still seemed sulky. “We wouldn’t want to rush into anything like, oh, discussing our entire futures. Might as well put that off for a while. Maybe something good is on cable.”

“You really do not want me making any big decisions right now,” she warned. After a deep sigh, she said, “You’re sure your head isn’t hurting? No nausea, anything like that? If I should call a doctor before I go, tell me now.”

“You’re going.” He sagged back against the sofa arm, as if too weary to keep the conversation, or his head, up any longer. “I’m fine. Freaked out, but fine.”

Gathering together the few things she’d brought to Daniel’s apartment the night before, she said, “Let’s talk on Tuesday, okay? Memorial Day weekend gives us both a chance to … think things through.” Simmer down, she meant. See reason. Time for Daniel to realize how he ought to be behaving and give it a try. “Besides, after the helicopter crash, you need your rest.”

Daniel only nodded. But he rose as she did and walked her to his door. As she put her hand on the doorknob, he said quietly, “I meant what I said before. That is … _before_ before. The part where I said I was crazy about you.”

The heavy clouds shadowing her mood parted for just a moment, allowing a single shaft of light. “I meant that too.”

Their hands tangled, more than a touch but not quite a caress, their fingers twining together all too briefly before each of them let go. Betty didn’t dare meet Daniel’s eyes before she darted out into the hallway, so she didn’t look back, and her steps never slowed as she left.

**

“I just love Memorial Day weekend, don’t you?” Hilda put her arms on her son’s shoulders from behind his back as he helped himself to a glass of water from the sink; he was getting a little tall for her to lean on, but that just made it sweeter. “The sunshine, the cookouts – it’s like the best holiday ever.”

Justin gave her a look. “This is the first time I’ve ever heard you mention Memorial Day as something other than a time for white sales and superhero movies.”

She play-swatted him. “Shut up, would ya? I’m enjoying myself.”

“You’re kind of sickening when you’re in love, you know?” Justin softened his words by kissing her on the cheek, before dashing out to the back stoop. Papi, taking it easy in a lawn chair this sunny Saturday afternoon, was “instructing” Austin on the best way to cook chicken on the grill, and no doubt Justin thought his boyfriend needed him to run interference. She wasn’t the only one crazy in love around this house!

Besides, why not run with it? Hilda thought the pleasure of being married had only sweetened for her after being so long delayed. At any rate, Papi’s illness had thus far been the only shadow on her marriage to Bobby; the rest of it was like this fireworks show that never ended, more and more beautiful surprises going BOOM every few seconds. He supported her family when they needed it. He’d gone the extra mile to make his little place work for all three of them on weekends. He was taking care of odd jobs at the house so Papi wouldn’t strain himself and try to do anything stupid. And every single night – oh, yeah. Fireworks, baby.

So she intended to enjoy Memorial Day, the Fourth of July, Columbus Day, Arbor Day and every other holiday that rolled out from this day on. Life was too sweet to waste.

 _But try telling that to some people_ , she thought, watching the scene at the other end of the kitchen table.

Betty had been given the job of chopping the tomatoes for the salsa. She was doing this as if the cutting board had personally insulted her, or maybe committed war crimes, and so had to die. Her knife whacked into the wood over and over as she decimated each tomato almost to the point of liquefying it.

“Calm down, okay?” Hilda turned to her task, which was opening the bags of chips and putting them in plastic bowls; she would have objected to this implicit judgment on her cooking skills except that it was kind of true. “What did that tomato ever do to you?”

“I hate being taken for granted,” Betty said.

“The tomatoes took you for granted?”

“Skip it,” Betty said. “I’m frustrated about some – work stuff. That’s all.”

Probably that meant Daniel, Hilda figured. Those two fought like cats and dogs sometimes, but there was never any point in worrying about it, because they inevitably made it up in the end. So she didn’t bother asking for the details, which no doubt would only have taken some of the luster from her fine spirits. When you were this happy, you just wanted to surf the wave, baby.

“I’ll be okay,” Betty continued, echoing Hilda’s thoughts. “He’ll – I mean, people come around in the end, generally speaking.”

“Of course they do,” Hilda said blithely. But to help this cheering trend, she took a handful of chips and dropped them on the kitchen table, within Betty’s reach; this won her a big smile. Damn, girl was looking good without those braces. Soon some new guy would no doubt be coming by the house more often, making her baby sister as happy as Hilda was herself.

Next task: Get some sodas in the cooler for the backyard, because God forbid anybody should have to walk all the way inside the back door to get anything from the fridge. Now, where did they stash that cooler? Hall closet, probably.

Her high heels clicking quietly against the floor, Hilda strolled through the kitchen and living room. To her surprise, Bobby had already come in from the market; instead of walking straight back or calling for them, he was standing there with the groceries at his feet, probably complete with melting ice cream, while he yapped on his cell phone. Guys. She opened her mouth to call for him, but that was when she heard what he was saying:

“I’m not moving the merch. I’ll pick it up. The end.” A silence, as Bobby stared intently at the floor. “Two weeks? Yeah. Get me a van. No plates.” Then he hung up.

Pressing herself against the living room wall, Hilda tried to catch her breath. What she’d just heard – that sounded like, well, not legal stuff. Illegal stuff. _Mob_ stuff.

The mob that Bobby had promised her and promised her the Talercios had no part in.

But Papi had always wondered, and Papi had been right about some of the damnedest things …

No. She had to have heard him wrong. Didn’t she?

“Hey!” Bobby called. “I’m home!” Like he was just coming in the door.

And like she hadn’t heard anything, Hilda came strutting out to take the grocery bags and accept a big kiss on the cheek. She didn’t say a word.

But inside her head … BOOM.

**

After Molly’s memorial service, some distant cousin of hers who didn’t know Daniel very well had given him a book. He had finally gotten around to reading the book on the endless flights between New York City and the Himalayas, which was how he had learned that there were five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.

He didn’t think “grief” was exactly the right word for his emotional response to Betty’s announcement, but the five-stages thing? That was right on the money.

Denial had been his main reaction when she’d first told him. (It was his first reaction to almost any huge emotional upset, really; Alexis, in her Alex days, had once said it was no coincidence you could get that word by rearranging the letters of Daniel’s name.) Leaving now – just when they were getting so close – no. That wasn’t the Betty he knew. She was loyal to a fault. She’d remained by his side through thick and thin, through PLAYER and the Order of the Phoenix and Dad’s death and Mom’s trial. So how could she leave now, for no reason? It couldn’t be possible.

Over Memorial Day weekend, though, he began to realize it was not only possible, but also absolutely true. That was when the anger set in.

How could she abandon him like this? How could she take away their daily interactions – coffee, elevator rides, making fun of Sofia Reyes – just when those moments were leading them someplace else, someplace infinitely better? How could she so coolly prepare for a move to London without ever caring that it meant leaving him, and admit that only chance had kept her from taking off before she’d known how he felt? How could she look at him gazing down at her as they danced – at the wedding, at the HOT FLASH gala – and seen what he felt for her, and still made plans to get away from him as soon as possible?

These thoughts were usually punctuated by the snap-and-rip sounds of packing tape being slapped onto cardboard boxes. He’d decided to pack himself, rather than rely on the service – the better to go through all the crap that needed throwing out. Daniel now regretted this, first of all because packing turned out to be really hard work, but mostly because he wasn’t paying any attention to it anymore. The initial, neatly labeled boxes were now accompanied by others he had just dumped stuff into; these had the word JUNK scrawled on the side. Though he knew this would only make unpacking seriously painful, he couldn’t quite stop himself.

For one moment, he had a vision of how different it might have been – Betty helping him move into his new place, maybe even bringing her overnight bag and a new extra toothbrush – and then caught himself.

Might have been? No. It still had to be.

Betty had said she was crazy about him too. That meant there was hope. He could still get through to her if he figured out how. She’d seemed to expect more from him – a bigger reaction, though she couldn’t possibly have thought he’d be _happy_ about her leaving – did that tell him the right way to go? Maybe it did.

A big reaction. Something that would show her how strongly he felt. Something showy. Yeah, that was the way to go.

Daniel’s cheerful blaze of restored optimism blinded him to the fact that this was the beginning of the “bargaining” phase.

When Tuesday rolled around, he wore a favorite blue suit into the office, paired it with his lucky purple tie, and got in early enough to put a few things together at his desk. If he knew Betty – and he did – she’d get in, go through work emails and get coffee before strolling by his office, which she would sometime between 9:30 and 10.

At 9:45, as he scowled at an email from Wilhelmina requesting an afternoon meeting to contest the cover shot he’d chosen, he finally heard Betty’s voice from the doorway: “You look better.”

Daniel glanced up to see her standing there, and she almost took his breath away: cherry-red dress, brilliant yellow pumps, full lips, loose hair. Her expression was guarded, but hopeful – much like his, he would have bet. “The black eye went all the way from purple to – it’s green, right? That’s what it looked like this morning.”

“Pretty greenish.” Betty’s mouth curled in a reluctant smile, and he could hardly remember why he’d ever thought they couldn’t handle this. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t clash with your tie.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” He sat back in his chair, more relaxed now, as she took a seat right in front of his desk. “Did you have a nice weekend?”

“Okay,” she said. “Hilda was in a weird mood from Saturday afternoon on. But the rest of us had fun. Dad felt a lot better; he and Elena were flirting like he could still chase her around the room.”

“Good for your dad.”

Betty grinned; this conversation was getting easier by the second. “It was a little strange to be, like, glad my dad still has a libido. But it’s … healthy for him, I guess.” She took a deep breath. “Anyway, I brought you something to look at.”

She slid a piece of paper across his desk, over a stack of images of the new maxi-skirts for fall. Daniel only had to read the first couple of words to recognize it: a release, freeing Betty from her contractual obligations at MODE so that she could take that NYRB job.

Well, if Betty wanted a big reaction – proof of how strongly he felt about her – she could have it. This was the perfect opportunity.

From his desk drawer he pulled out a lighter, gave Betty a look, and then set fire to the release. Dramatic gesture: activated!

Except …

Paper burned much faster than he remembered.

Particularly when you dropped it onto another, larger stack of flammable paper, say a bunch of copies of maxi-skirt pictures.

And the Meade Publications building had a very sensitive fire alert system.

Complete with sprinklers.

As water rained down from above and sirens started to wail, staffers in the office outside began shrieking and running for the stairwell. The momentary conflagration on Daniel’s desk quickly began to fizzle into so much soot and grainy mess on his desk. Betty’s beautiful red dress spattered into darkness as she glared at him. “What were you thinking?”

“Um – that was cooler in my head?”

This got him about as far as he would’ve thought. “I can’t believe you just did that. This is important to me, Daniel!”

“Betty, I can make it worth your while to stay here! Professionally, I mean!” He had to shout to be heard over the sirens, but that was okay; nobody was around to hear any longer, and besides, he had to get through to her somehow. “We’ll provide you with a raise. A promotion. If you need something fresh, take a look at the other Meade publications and name your position. Anything you want, I can give you!”

“I don’t want to be given anything! I want to earn something! I can’t believe you don’t see that!”

His suit was soaking through. Rivulets of water ran down his face. “Come on! You can’t expect me to sign some release so you can walk away now!”

Betty looked angrier than he’d ever seen her. “So you’re going to hold me hostage? Is that it? You think you can keep me here just to date you? Because that’s never going to happen, Daniel. Never!”

The sirens and the water shut off; the blaze had been extinguished. Daniel and Betty stood facing each other, sopping wet, in a room that suddenly seemed quieter than it had ever been before. She slipped off her drop-speckled glasses, revealing the beautiful face he’d admired just a few nights before – but so distant now that she might as well have been miles away.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said in a low voice.

“Really? Because that’s what you said.” She ran one hand through her sopping hair and groaned. “When and if the computers work again, I’m going to print out the release PDF again. I’ll send it to you interoffice mail. Sign it and send it back the same way. If not, forget my two weeks’ notice. I’ll walk out today, and if you’re really low enough to sue me for breach of contract – you know, go ahead.”

“I would never – ”

“I know,” Betty said, but she still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Just sign it.”

She stalked out of his office, her heels squelching on the wet carpet as she went.

Daniel realized, too late, that the big gesture she’d wanted was for him to let her go. And he’d failed. More than failed. He’d screwed it all up, probably for good.

This had to be where the “depression” phase began.

**

Claire was dampened in the false fire alarm, but she simply used her lunch hour to get a blowout at a nearby salon. This meant she was able to see Wilhelmina at the afternoon meeting with both of them equally polished, equally perfect – ideally matched warriors.

Daniel, meanwhile, looked like a drowned rat. If he’d taken one step to clean himself up after the small fire in his office, she could see no evidence of it. He simply stared balefully at Wilhelmina Slater as he slumped in his chair.

“You know my feelings about green,” Wilhelmina said. “Doesn’t matter how beautiful the dress is, how fine the photography, or what the cover lines are. If the cover uses green as the dominant color, the issue doesn’t sell.”

“That’s standard-issue J-school crap,” Daniel said.

Wilhelmina raised an eyebrow. “You actually attended journalism school? What a revelation. Why, Daniel, you just keep unfolding like a flower.”

“No, I didn’t go to J-school, but even I heard that old bit of conventional wisdom.” He was angrier about this than he ought to have been, Claire noted; he was too defensive, particularly when Wilhelmina’s point was borne out by sales statistics. “Everybody believes green is cursed or something. The result is that almost nobody has done a green fashion cover in the past decade. So who knows? What if green looks fresh now? Original?”

“What if it looks repulsive?” Wilhelmina shot back.

Claire watched as her son held up the proposed cover image, Natalie Portman in a rich green cowl-necked sweater. “This woman looks repulsive to you? It doesn’t to me. I’m a straight guy; I’d know.”

This earned him a contemptuous glare from Wilhelmina. “Straight men are not our demographic, Daniel. I should have thought you’d realize that by now.”

“Well, I would’ve thought you’d realize Connor Owens is a crook and a user by now,” Daniel said. “I guess we both have a lot to learn.”

Wilhelmina gripped the armrests of her chair, obviously both angry and shocked. Claire had no love lost for the woman, but that didn’t change the fact that her son was behaving unprofessionally, making something personal when there was no need for it to be. Time for her to step in.

“I think the cover image is arresting,” Claire said. “Better than any of the other shots we got of her. But the point about green is well-taken.”

“We can’t photoshop the sweater another color,” Daniel complained. “Oscar de la Renta will pitch a fit.”

Claire nodded. “No, let’s not tick off a fashion house. But we aren’t stuck with that white background. That, we could tint into another shade, which would define the cover. A mustard yellow, perhaps? That’s heating up for autumn.”

“No,” Wilhelmina said, so decisively that it took Claire a moment longer to realize she wasn’t rejecting the idea out of hand. “Aqua. Tonal variations look very fresh right now. And the sweater is dark enough that it will still look like fall.”

After a pause, Daniel finally said, “That would work, I guess.”

“What a relief,” Claire said. “Wilhelmina, I take it you can get design to work on the concept?”

“But of course.” She rose and quickly strode from the conference room, obviously eager to escape from Daniel’s black mood as soon as possible. He, meanwhile, didn’t seem to notice that the meeting had ended; he kept staring down at Natalie Portman’s face.

Claire finally ventured, “Is anything wrong? You don’t look like yourself.”

“I look like Mike Tyson’s punching bag.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” She studied her son carefully. “Are you still upset, after the crash? I had some bad dreams this weekend.”

“No. I mean, yes, that still freaks me out, but that’s not what’s bothering me.” Daniel gave her a hangdog look. “Betty’s leaving MODE.”

“What?”

“She got a job offer at the NEW YORK REVIEW OF BOOKS. It’s basically her dream job. So she’s going in two weeks.” He took a deep breath. “I just signed her release.”

Although an opportunity like that would be a plum for any up-and-coming magazine journalist, Claire was surprised Betty was going – now, at least. “Didn’t you offer her a raise?”

“I did. No go.”

“Are you sure you couldn’t give her other reasons to stay?”

She expected her son to ask what she meant by that, and she intended to tell him. If Daniel remained oblivious to what a catch Betty Suarez was, there was no more time left for him to figure it out on his own.

Instead, Daniel slumped back in his seat. “Betty and I – we were headed toward something amazing. We got so close, and then … Mom, I blew it. I mean, really blew it. As in, for good.”

“Does this have something to do with that mysterious fire on your desk?”

“Uh, yeah. It also has to do with me acting like a jackass.”

The disappointment cut deep. It was always hard to see your children hurting, and all the worse when some of your hopes died with them. “Well, damn.”

“Do I have to console you now?” He gave her a look. “Because I’m going to be too good at that for a while.”

“It’s just a letdown. That’s all.” She stroked his still-damp hair. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Truly.”

Slowly Daniel said, “The worst part of it – of losing her – it’s realizing that I deserved to lose her. Betty always made me want to be somebody better than I was. She could see this other, better guy in me that I might be, and I’ve tried to become that. With her, talking about this whole thing with her leaving MODE … I wasn’t that guy.”

“You’re a good man, Daniel. We all make mistakes.”

“I make more than most.”

“No beating yourself up,” she said firmly. “Tonight, come by the house. I’ll ask Tyler, too. We’ll have some family time.”

Daniel looked wary, as well he might. “Is that supposed to comfort me or just distract me?”

“We’ll come up with something.”

She watched him go, heart aching for him – but even as he trudged back to his office, Claire’s mind was turning toward other, potentially critical matters. Once she was again alone, she quickly grabbed her cell phone.

Yoga picked up on the first ring. “Yes, I remembered to pick up the Camembert.”

“Marvelous, but that’s not why I’m calling.” Claire took a moment to collect her thoughts; this suspicion was so new that she hardly had the words for it yet. “Earlier, Daniel said something to Wilhelmina about Connor Owens.”

“That’s the slag who tried to steal your husband and her jailbird boyfriend? Not that I have anything against jailbirds. Obviously.”

“Yes, that’s her. Wilhelmina’s reaction struck me as … overly concerned about the friction between Daniel and Connor. Beyond the concern she’d feel over Daniel’s anger towards Connor.”

Catching on fast, Yoga said, “So you think she’s actually freaking out over Connor being angry with Daniel.”

“Precisely. And I can only think of one reason why she’d care.”

“What's that?”

Claire couldn’t say it outright. Instead, she went with a question: “How could you tell if someone had – sabotaged a helicopter?”

**

 _Well, blog readers, this is it – my dream come true. As of June 7, I’ll no longer be an assistant editor at MODE, but an assistant editor at the NEW YORK REVIEW OF BOOKS! No more platform heels and Prada: Instead, I’ll be writing about important authors. Major cultural trends. Scholarly analysis. And probably nobody is going to snicker at my hemlines any longer. Nobody will notice anymore, because my new coworkers will have other interests … more like mine._

 _So why don’t I feel like celebrating?_

Betty began her preparations to leave within minutes of receiving the interoffice mail folder with her signed release in it. Packing up her office was easier to do than looking down at that sheet of paper with Daniel’s stark signature on it. Was it her imagination, or was his writing a little bit shaky?

She wasn’t going to ask herself that question. She was going to prepare for the better days to come.

“That’s so weird how much simpler the lines of the room are now,” Megan chirped. “Without stuffed rabbits and things in it.”

Betty only said, “I hear Marc is trying to figure out how to give Amanda this desk.” She didn’t even have to turn and see Megan’s face fall; it was enough to know it was happening.

This should have been one of the best days of her life. Instead, she felt small and sick inside.

How could Daniel have ruined this for her? Moments like this didn’t come around that often; they deserved to be celebrated, not rained on. Daniel? Definitely acting like a rain cloud. Betty felt as though he had stolen something precious from her, something irreplaceable.

But she knew that wasn’t the only reason, or even the main reason, for the deep sense of loss inside.

 _We associate big celebrations with fireworks. Staring up into the sky, watching it blossom into brilliant light and color: Fireworks aren’t just displays of our happiness, but a sign that everybody’s invited to celebrate with us. There are no ticket prices, no exclusive seats. The show is for everyone._

 _So maybe I ought to feel like setting off fireworks as I count down my final days at MODE._

 _I don’t, though._

 _Instead I find myself remembering that fireworks aren’t just pretty blooms of color, like bunches of flowers. They’re explosions so massive and lethal that they’d kill anyone up close._

 _There’s not that much difference between a roman candle and a bomb._

“So, your goodbye party is going to be massive,” Amanda said as she fell into step beside Betty in the Tube at the top of her last week there. “By the way, are you also leaving your apartment? Because Tyler and I are starting to want a little more privacy away from Marc. You know. For sex.”

“I got that already, Amanda. And no, I’m not moving apartments. Just jobs.” Betty sighed as she looked down at the folders in her arms; they were mostly exit forms to fill out for HR. Already, her last assignments had been turned in. The end was so close. “Wait, did you say a goodbye party?”

“Don’t you want to know what we need more privacy for? More privacy than we could have in a bedroom?” Amanda gave her an open-mouthed smile. “Here’s a hint. It involves ingredients you can find in any kitchen, if you actually cook. I mean, I don’t, but Tyler says he can go shopping.”

“No, I don’t want to know what – ”

“Admit it, Betty. You can’t stop thinking about me naked.”

“Amanda. Focus. Goodbye party?”

“Of course. We’re gonna dance and drink – in Tyler’s case club soda, but he says he can be around other drinkers, but we gotta watch him. He’s still good for dancing, though. The whole staff is coming. We might see if those piñata guys from four years ago can make La Nina Betty again. Did you know, they say that’s become their most popular model after the burro donkey thing?”

“I’ll be sure to put that on my resume. But, Amanda – I don’t really feel like a goodbye party.”

Amanda stared at her as they reached the elevator bank. “Are you nuts? We always have goodbye parties! Even for people we hate. Unless they’re Nick Pepper, because that guy was a loser. Also Alexis, but she left because she nearly killed Christina. That kind of killed the mood. Anyway, you love parties.”

“I do, but – ”

At that moment the elevator doors opened, and Daniel walked out. Betty had been working really hard to avoid him for the past week, and he’d apparently been returning the favor; this was the first time they’d laid eyes on each other since the Sprinkler System Incident. She was too shocked to say anything, or to notice much beyond the face that his face, while still bruised, was almost back to normal.

Daniel’s mouth opened, then closed again, and he walked past so quickly that she half expected him to break into a run. Betty realized she was crushing the folders against her chest so hard the papers inside would all be rumpled.

“Whoa, what was that?” Amanda looked from Betty to Daniel’s fast-vanishing figure at the end of the Tube. “Is Daniel, like, pissed off that you’re leaving MODE?”

“Yeah.” What else could she say?

“Well, no wonder. I mean, you are the Tinkerbell to his Peter Pan. The R2D2 to his C3PO. The Stacey to his Clinton. Wait, no, I call that last one for me and Marc.”

Betty said, shortly, “He’ll get over it.”

She expected Amanda to respond by blathering on about the party some more, which would give her another chance to veto it, but Amanda surprised her: “I don’t know if he will. I mean – you’re the only reason he made it here, right? He’s never really had to run MODE without you, not for long, anyway. So Daniel’s probably freaking out.”

Why hadn’t she ever thought of that before? It had been so long since Betty had questioned Daniel’s ability that she hadn’t wondered whether he still questioned it himself.

Lost in thought, she failed to notice the moment when Amanda strutted away, which meant, whether she liked it or not, the party was on.

 _Thinking about the true nature of fireworks – and some other things – reminded me that even the greatest changes in life are also forces of destruction. Yes, I’m ready to move on to the NYRB. I’m ready to take the next steps in my life._

 _But believe it or not, I’m going to miss working at a fashion magazine. I’m going to miss all the friends I’ve made. The bustle and color of the Closet. The challenge of finding new things to say about clutch handbags. Walking up the runway after the Fashion Week show is over. Joking on the beach during a photo shoot in the Bahamas. Brainstorming late at night with Chinese food. Meade Publications galas. All the good stuff._

 _Saying hello to what comes next means saying goodbye to all that._

 _Celebrating what comes next in my life means facing the destruction of what came before._

 _And that’s as hard for me as it must be for … everyone else._

A deep percussion beat thumped through the MODE offices as the goodbye party began. Betty, still at her desk, sat staring at the blank spot on the wall where her poncho used to hang. She’d had it sent to her apartment; she’d have to get a look at her new space at the NYRB and see if the framed poncho would fit there. The dimensions of her office-to-be: Just one more part of the future she didn’t know and couldn’t guess.

Why hadn’t she realized that quitting MODE would be scary? For Daniel, and for her?

Too late, Betty understood that part of why she’d needed Daniel to be happy for her right away was because she didn’t want to face his natural worries about her leaving – which meant facing her own fears, as well. That was a burden she shouldn’t have put on him, particularly not right after he’d had to confront his own mortality in that horrifying helicopter crash.

(Was that part of it too? Had her fear of losing him forever subconsciously led her to push him away so she’d never have to face that pain again?)

But recognizing her own fault in their argument didn’t take away the fact that Daniel had behaved badly. Very badly. Burning that release – trying to prevent her dream from coming true – that would have been childish and unfair at any time, doubly so after they’d come so close to a romance. Her part in their initial misunderstanding didn’t excuse his actions. Betty could hardly believe he’d done that. It seemed so unlike the kind, patient, helpful Daniel she’d become enchanted by in the past couple of months.

Had she really fallen for Daniel? Already it seemed surreal – impossible. Like a dream she’d had. A dream that still had its power over her …

But if he could really be so mean-spirited about her desire for another job, about her need to move on and have an independent life without him, then she’d never fallen for Daniel at all. Just for a vision of him that had proved to be a mere illusion.

 _If you want to make progress towards your goals, you can’t focus too much on the destruction and danger of the inevitable fireworks. You have to look at the colors, and the lights. You have to hear everyone around you cheering. You have to gaze upward in wonder at all the beauty that’s possible for you, and for all of us._

 _So that’s what I’m going to do._

Betty took a deep breath and swallowed the knot in her throat. Then she walked out to her farewell party, raised her hands to the answering cheers of her coworkers, and threw herself into the dancing.

It helped her stop thinking about the fact that Daniel wasn’t there.

**

Probably Hilda could’ve swung an invite to Betty’s farewell party at MODE. Justin got invited just for being an intern for a few days; didn’t being a Fashion Week hairstylist rate the same treatment? One phone call to Marc and the whole thing would’ve been set up.

But Justin was at a “Moulin Rouge” sing-along in Chelsea with Austin, and besides – tonight, Hilda had bigger challenges to deal with.

Her running shoes were white and silver, so Hilda had gone with ballet flats, which were at least quieter than heels. Black leggings, black T-shirt, sunglasses at night: That all seemed about right.

She peered around the corner of the warehouse into the neighboring parking lot. Nothing yet, except the same old empty soda bottles that had been there three minutes ago, the last time she dared to take a look. Damn, some people were trashy. How hard was it to throw your crap away?

Hilda knew she was only irritated about the trash because it helped keep her from freaking out, and she needed all the help she could get.

If Bobby was out here doing some kind of job for the Mafia, she was going to kill him before the mob thugs ever had the chance. How could he lie to her like that? How could he endanger their new family? They’d already started talking about trying again for a baby later this year …

“Hilda?”

She spun around, clutching in her purse for the pepper spray, but Bobby ducked down and covered his eyes. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Baby, it’s me!”

Hilda took a deep breath, torn between relief and outrage. “Yeah, it’s you, hanging out here in this parking lot. You are _not_ at the sports’ bar trivia night, mister!”

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.” She crossed her arms. “Bobby, what are _you_ doing here?”

“I – I’m going to trivia night later.” He looked wary, as well he might. “I just gotta do my cousin Eddie a favor.”

“Your cousin Eddie, huh?” Eddie Talercio was a round-faced, endlessly cheerful type, who had come to her wedding, done the chicken dance and eaten at least a third of the cake by himself. “Eddie needs you to ‘move the merch’? Eddie’s the one sending you out in an unmarked van? Is that what’s going on here?”

Bobby groaned as he leaned against the brick wall of the warehouse with her; it was as if they were both hiding out from God knew who, barely illuminated by the streetlamp yards away. Although this was probably the single biggest argument they’d ever had – and what it meant was both huge and terrifying – Hilda realized she felt safer out here now that he was with her. She still trusted the guy, even if it was crazy.

Finally he said, “I’m not mob. I told you that, and I told you the truth. But – a couple guys in my family – ”

“Oh, Jesus, save us.” Hilda covered her face with her hands, as if trying to block it out.

“Hilda, I don’t get mixed up in that crap. Swear to God. I’ve never brought home one dollar I didn’t earn fair and square. But every once in a while – maybe once a year or so – one of them asks me something as a favor. As family. So I do it, and I don’t ask questions.”

“What kinda favors are we talking about here? Are you a hit man? A bank robber?”

“Don’t be ridiculous –”

“We are out here on a Friday night because you’re doing something for the mob. There is no such thing as a ridiculous question about this. Okay? I get to ask whatever I want.”

Bobby looked wounded. “I would never hurt anybody like that. Not ever.”

“I know, baby.” She touched his arm. “I know that. But you gotta tell me what this is, and we gotta get you out of it.”

His phone rang. From the expression on his face, she knew who had to be on the other line. Holding out her hand, Hilda said, “Give it here.”

“You don’t need to get mixed up in anything you don’t understand.”

“That’s why I’m gonna understand.” Hey, if the mafiosos decided Bobby was totally whipped, they’d probably back off. Hilda kept staring at her husband until finally he handed the phone over. “Hello, who is this?”

“Hilda?” Jesus, it really was cousin Eddie. He was mafia? Didn’t look the type. “So nice to talk to you. Listen, I was calling Bobby – ”

“I know you were calling Bobby. For dirty work. I’m not okay with that, Eddie. He’s leaving the family business. As of now.”

Only after the words left her lips did Hilda realize that back-talking a mafia don was probably a bad idea, even if he was related to you and looked more like a Weeble than Michael Corleone. Bobby’s eyes were bugging out of his head, and she wondered – much too late – whether she’d just started them down a path that led to riding in car trunks and wearing Hefty bags for a late-night swim.

But Eddie just chuckled. “The little woman’s putting her foot down already, huh? Well, listen, Hilda. I don’t want to mess things up for you. All I ask is you don’t mess things up for me.”

Nervously she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I wasn’t gonna call the cops or anything.”

“Of course not. But tonight – I was counting on Bobby here. I just need him to drive that van a few miles down the road. Nothing in the back but DVD players. You can check for yourself, if you want. Hey, go with him. It’s safe as it can be, and that way, I’ll owe you both a favor. Never know when you might need a favor, Hilda.”

She was starting to see how Bobby might feel like, at times, he had no choice. “This is the last time. The absolute last. I have your word on that.”

“My word,” Eddie said. “On my life, I swear that to you, Hilda Suarez Talercio.”

There was no saying why him using her full name made her believe him, but it did. “Okay. We’ll do it.”

“That’s good of you. And hey, we’re gonna see you guys for the Fourth of July picnic, right?”

“Yeah, see you then!” Hilda managed to keep the cheer up until the call ended; then she and Bobby stared at each other for a long moment. “I didn’t realize ‘for better or for worse’ covered this kind of thing.”

Bobby shook his head. “We’re both in the van?”

“He said it was safe.”

“Yeah, it’s safe. I would never have said okay to anything that wasn’t safe – you know that, right?”

“I guess.”

The look they shared told him that he knew what she knew now. That he hadn’t left because it wasn’t easy to leave. That your family could tie you to things you would never have dreamed of. And loving somebody meant being along for the ride, even if the ride was in a van transporting possibly stolen goods.

As they began walking toward the van that had been dropped there for pickup, Bobby gave her an uneasy smile. “Look at you. All tricked out in your black secret agent gear.”

“Stop it.” Hilda realized she was smiling too. Yeah, she still felt uneasy about this – but she wasn’t angry with Bobby, at least not anything like as much as she had been. Family came first, after all, and if some of your family got mixed up in craziness … well, you might have to deal with a little crazy. She’d had to deal with MODE, hadn’t she?

Okay, not the same thing. But still. Hilda wasn’t leaving her man over this, not by a long shot.

“What were you gonna do in all this black?” Bobby had started to grin, sensing the worst of the crisis had past. “Go running after the van, flip up onto the roof like Sydney Bristow or something?”

“You wish I ran around in little rubber dresses like Sydney Bristow.”

“Never too soon to start planning a surprise for our anniversary – ”

**

As the van pulled up to the heliport gate, Yoga bounded up to the back, boosted herself off the bumper and effortlessly slid atop the roof. The gates opened, and she held on as her ride drove through, confident her black clothing would conceal her in the darkness.

 _These days were supposed to be over for me,_ she thought wryly. _Only for you, Fish._

Then again, it was kind of good to know she still had it in her.

So, she knew now you could get past the security gates. Yoga had made the leap skillfully, but during the day, with traffic coming in and out, even someone with less expertise would be able to pull it off. That only meant that sabotage was possible, and in itself proved nothing, but it was good to know.

As soon as the van’s occupants (mechanics, she thought) went inside the main building, Yoga slipped down to the pavement. Noiselessly she backed herself up to the structure itself; security cameras were likely to pan the perimeter, rather than the closest areas. Her eyes, accustomed to this task, quickly picked out each of the cameras and assessed what the likely blind spots would be. One of those blind spots was right by the side of another fenced enclosure – the pad itself, where the helicopters sat at the ready.

Slowly, deliberately, she walked through that blind spot, right to the far side of that enclosure. And there, at the bottom, was a triangle of mesh that didn’t match the rest – shiny silver, instead of the time-dulled fencing of the rest.

They’d just repaired the fence within the past several days.

Like they would if somebody had cut their way in.

And Yoga could think of one good reason someone might have done that.

She whistled a low note. “Fish is gonna be in one hell of a mood tonight.”

**

From the far corner of the office, Daniel watched Betty’s celebration party rage on. In some ways, it was miraculous to see: The same fashionistas who had scorned her a few years ago were now dancing beside her, sharing her joy, and unashamed to admit they were going to miss her. Even Wilhelmina had strolled through earlier, sharing a few apparently sincere words with Betty; whatever she had said had made Betty grin with pride.

In other words, every single person at MODE was able to be happy for her, except him.

Daniel felt like pond scum. Worse: Pond scum that was going to die alone. How could he have been so stupid? He kept trying to think of ways to save the situation, but none came to mind that didn’t seem presumptuous or bossy or any of the other things Betty hated so much.

So he was stuck there, watching her dance between Marc and Amanda, her glittery gold jacket glinting with every move she made. She was like a Fourth of July sparkler: simple, joyful, bright.

 _I’ve lost her,_ he thought. _I’ve really, truly lost her._

And the worst part was that he’d lost her by failing to be the better man she’d always inspired him to be.

Then Daniel realized: _Even if I’ve lost her, I can still be that man. I want to be._

Something settled over him, a mood unlike any other he’d experienced during the past two weeks – sad, yet strangely comforting. He wasn’t going to keep reviewing his many mistakes. He wasn’t going to be angry with Betty for wanting something else for her future, or for not wanting him along with it. He wasn’t going to mope around and avoid the issue any longer. No, he was going to _be that man._

This was probably the “acceptance” part.

As Pink’s song began winding up, Daniel finally walked out of the shadowy alcove where he’d been hiding out and gestured toward the photo editor who was playing DJ for the party. She turned down the volume just as the song ended, and though a few dancers groaned, more of them looked up, which gave Daniel a chance to hold up his hand and call for everyone’s attention.

Betty was one of the last to turn. Her wide, surprised eyes made Daniel feel as if he’d torn open inside – God, was she actually afraid of what he would say? – but no. He wasn’t going to concentrate on his fuckups. He was only going to think about what needed to be said, and say it.

“We’re here tonight to bid goodbye to Betty Suarez,” Daniel said, surprised that his voice remained even. “She began at MODE as my assistant – but she helped me in ways that went far beyond fetching coffee or scheduling appointments. Within weeks of her arrival, I knew she was smart … even brilliant. Always cheerful. Always kind. I think we all learned fast just how important she was to this place, to all of us. At any rate, I learned how important she was to me.”

Almost how important. If he’d learned exactly how important, earlier on – but no. He wasn’t going to give in to regrets right now. This moment was about Betty.

She stood there, totally still, as clear to him as if she were framed in a spotlight. The overheated room and her wild dancing had mussed her hair, and a few strands stuck to the sweaty skin of her cheek. But Betty’s eyes were wide and dark, her gaze as serious as it had ever been.

“Betty has helped me as an editor, and me as a person, in more ways than I can possibly name here, or maybe even understand. I think she’s done that for all of us. So as hard as it is to watch her walk out these doors, and out of our lives, we have to be glad for her. Be proud of her, moving onward and upward, always. Betty, I hope you get everything you ever wanted, and that all your dreams come true. You deserve that and more. Just know that you’ll always be remembered. You’ll always be missed. Love you. Goodbye.”

Everybody began clapping and cheering, and plastic champagne glasses were raised across the room. The DJ pumped up the volume again as someone pressed a flute of bubbly into Daniel’s hand; he gulped the drink down in a couple of swallows, then started to head for the door. He’d done what he needed to do, paid Betty the tribute she deserved. Now he needed to stop raining on her parade and take his bad mood somewhere else, like his new apartment, where going through endless boxes marked JUNK at least kept him busy.

But as he reached the edge of the party, a hand caught at the sleeve of his jacket, and he turned to see Betty there – grooving to the beat the whole time. “Where are you going?” she called over the racket. And she was smiling at him. Really smiling. Daniel hadn’t known how badly he already missed her smile.

“I was – ” What was he going to say?

It didn’t matter; Betty towed him back onto the dance floor, right there with her and Marc and Amanda. “Will you just dance already?”

So maybe they were just friends. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was worth a hell of a lot. So Daniel threw himself into it, bouncing along with Marc and Amanda and Betty, all of them thrashing their heads side to side with the beat.

When it came to Betty, he was ready to stop worrying about what he could get. He just wanted to know what she needed. Whatever that was, he would be.

**

As the party wound down, Betty made her way to her office … her former office. It was empty now of the gerber daisies and photos and everything else that had made it hers. Slowly she took her ID out of her jacket pocket and dropped it on the desk. From now on, she would only be a visitor here. Her time at MODE was truly over.

From the doorway behind her, she heard Daniel’s voice. “Hey. Headed out?”

“Almost.” Betty turned to see him, framed in the shadows. His shirt collar was loose from the dancing, and as he leaned against the doorjamb, she could make out the entire outline of his body. Just the nearness of Daniel sent a welcome shiver through her, and Betty knew then – as she’d always known, really – that the change in her emotions for him was no illusion. “Thanks, by the way. For what you said in there.”

“It’s no more than what I should’ve said from the start.”

“I threw a lot on you at once. I get that now.”

Daniel shrugged. “Yeah, but that’s not exactly an excuse for starting fires.”

The memory of the blaze on his desk made her smile; something she’d thought of as an outrage had already become funny to her. “That was kind of … special.”

“Sorry about that.” He ran one hand through his scruffy hair. “Not just the fire, though, you know, mainly the fire. But also for not understanding how important this was to you. For not supporting you, even if you – chose something else. That’s the least I owe you.”

Betty cocked her head as she sat on a corner of her desk. “Daniel, did you really never understand? – I couldn’t have dated my boss. Not ever. That wouldn’t be right. My getting another job wasn’t about choosing something else. It opened up a lot of new possibilities for both of us. Or that’s how I saw it, anyway.”

Watching the realization dawn on his face would have been hilarious, if she hadn’t seen the pain written there too. “I feel – really stupid now.”

“Don’t. We need to be clearer with each other. _Both_ of us.” She smiled at him softly. “From now on, we need to do a better job of talking to each other.”

Daniel watched her for such a long time that she began to wonder if he’d heard her wrong. Then he said, expression shifting into wonder, “From now on?” She nodded. “So I didn’t, um, blow it completely?”

So, he hadn’t given that speech at the party to get her back. He’d said it completely unselfishly. That was – endearing. “Let’s say you still have a chance to get back on my good side.”

He took a few strolling steps into the office, hands in his pockets. The worried crease between his eyebrows had smoothed, and Daniel’s eyes now held a kind of light that made her feel warm and soft inside. “What would a guy have to do to get on your good side?”

“Tell you what.” Betty nudged the cardboard box full of her stuff with her elbow. “Start by carrying this down to the taxi for me, and we’ll take it from there.”

**

Daniel carried her box down to the taxi.

He rode to her apartment with her, the two of them side by side, knees brushing against each other, laughing about different hookups and incidents at her goodbye party. Every single time their eyes met, she felt it like an electric shock. Or a deliciously cool breeze. Or a sparkly, brilliant kind of light … like fireworks.

Then he took the box in his arms and walked with her to the front stoop of her building, and by then, Betty’s heart was pounding.

“So,” Daniel said. “This box is pretty heavy. Maybe I should take it upstairs for you.”

“I don’t know.” She leaned against the wall, rolling her ankle so that her shoe slipped back and forth against the step. “That’s a few flights up, you know. You might get tired. You’d have to stick around and rest for a while.”

“More than a few minutes,” he agreed. “A few hours, maybe.”

 _Or all night,_ Betty thought but didn’t say. She didn’t have to speak it aloud. Just looking at Daniel told her he was thinking the exact same thing.

A zillion questions flooded her mind at once – _are we ready for this? Is jumping in this fast a good idea? But we’re definitely ready to make out, right?_ – yet she reminded herself that the main thing was that they spend some time together. Figure out what they were going to be to each other from now on. And tell each other the truth.

“Come on up,” she said, and oh, there were no words for the heat in Daniel’s eyes –

A car came racing along the street, faster than the usual traffic of taxis crawling along looking for addresses; that was what got her to glance away from Daniel. Because she glanced over in time, she saw the car slowing suddenly, and something dark protruding from the window.

And almost too late, realized what that was.

“Look out!” she cried, tugging Daniel down with her as gunfire erupted and bullets began slamming into the door. Daniel pushed her closer to the wall, covering her body with his, but the assault was already over. As the car sped away, tires squealing, their eyes met.

“Jesus Christ,” Daniel said, pulling her even closer to him. His breaths were coming as short and fast as her own. “What the hell just happened?”

“I don’t know.”

All around them, car alarms were going off, people were glancing out their windows, and other passers-by were starting to freak out. Within minutes, the police were on the scene, and neighbors were demanding answers. Marc, Amanda and Tyler all arrived home from the party and sat on the stoop with them, providing some minimal comfort.

“I put some of the chocolate from the party in my purse,” Amanda said, putting a handful of slightly mushy foil-wrapped candies in Betty’s hand. “Here.”

“Thanks,” she sighed. A few feet away, a police officer lifted her good-luck bunny with a pair of tongs; a bullet hole showed clearly through its pink chest. Then it was dropped into an evidence bag and sealed. “I just can’t get over it. A drive-by shooting, in this neighborhood?”

“We’re okay. Nobody was hurt.” Daniel rubbed her shoulder, a touch she found deeply reassuring – but then his cell phone went off, startling both of them. He swore lightly under his breath. “Still jumpy. Okay.” Quickly he answered. “Hello?”

The volume was set loud enough for Betty to hear Claire Meade’s voice. “Daniel. Are you at Betty’s party? I don’t want to disturb you.”

“The party’s over,” Daniel said. “And how.”

Before he could explain further, Betty heard Claire continue, “Listen. Yoga and I have made a fairly upsetting discovery.” She shared a look with Daniel, who held the phone out, the better for them both to hear. “It looks as if our little plunge into the Hudson two weeks ago wasn’t an accident. Someone appears to have broken into the helipad, and possibly sabotaged the helicopter.”

Betty’s mind leaped forward, making the connection so fast she would have doubted it – if there were any room for doubt, but there wasn’t.

“The helicopter was sabotaged,” she whispered. “And tonight – that wasn’t a random drive-by.”

Daniel had begun shaking his head no, though she knew he believed her. “It can’t be.”

“It can,” Betty insisted. “Daniel … someone is trying to kill you!”

 

THE END __

 _Next episode: “The Unusual Suspects”_

 _(Songs: “I’m Coming Up,” Pink; “Don’t Rain on My Parade,” Lea Michele; “Rolling in the Deep” by Adele.)_


End file.
